


The Man With A Child In His Eyes

by gillianaunofficial



Category: Sex Education (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:28:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22340311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gillianaunofficial/pseuds/gillianaunofficial
Summary: Prompts: 1 prompt - Jean tells Jakob she is ready for relationship because she loves him 2 prompt - its 2 months after sex education season finale Jean is now 4 months pregnant and you can start seeing her bump, she still haven't told Jakob about the baby but she knows she has to so she tries to tell himAndmaybe Jean wanting to tell Jakob about the baby and her real feelings towards him
Relationships: Jean Milburn/Jakob Nyman
Comments: 7
Kudos: 91





	1. Hounds Of Love Are Hunting

The ivy curled around the house, reminding her a little of the hobbit holes from The Lord Of The Rings. Jakob’s house is certainly the most hobbit like thing she’s ever seen owned by a person that is not at all hobbit like. A small spider, orange markings splashing it’s back crawled down a tendril of ivy, she shivered, she never did like spiders very much. She pulled the threadbare string, ringing the bell that would alert Jakob of her presence. She had to do this, for her, for the child growing inside of her body. She didn’t plan on telling him yet. Just to tell him her true feelings was all she was really ready to do, but she was barely ready for that. She took a deep breath as she heard movement from within the house, almost running away as the door handle turned. Jakob stood in the doorway, his hair messy and his face unshaven. Maybe he hadn’t been doing as well as Jean had thought.

“Jean?” He said, his accent thick and tired, it was almost 1pm but she wouldn’t be surprised if he’d only just woken up.

“Hi, Jakob, could I come in?” She asked, balling her hands in front of her, like a schoolgirl about to be told off by a teacher.

“Fine. But I already told you.” He said, sighing and letting her past. She lingered in the doorway before he went through to the living room, sitting down on the cracked leather sofa that had revealed their relationship to their children. Jean stood in front of him, unable to sit, more nervous than she had been in a long time.

“Firstly, I would like to say, that I in no way am expecting you to take me back nor even agree with what I am saying.” She said, combing a rogue piece of hair behind her ear. Her finger caught the golden star hanging from her earring.

“Okay.” Jakob said, his arms crossed over his chest, the top two buttons of his shirt undone, revealing the curling blue ink of a tattoo.

“I’m sorry.” Jean said, collecting her thoughts. She’d thought about what she was going to say for the last three days and yet as soon as Jakob had appeared in front of her she’d forget even the basis of what she’d thought out to tell him. “I’ve forgotten what I was going to say.” She said, bowing her head in shame.

“Speak from here.” Jakob said, placing a hand over his heart. The argument that Jakob and Otis had had at the dinner table flashed in Jean’s mind. She nodded and took a deep breath, looking at the ceiling before beginning to speak.

“I shouldn’t have kissed Remi. I know I shouldn’t have. I was drunk and that’s no excuse but I didn’t know what I wanted. I was so caught up in this awful jealousy and this urge to show off, when we wrote together, Remi was always the one who more people wanted to see, always the more desirable one, the nicer one, the one who got the interviews. He was always so effortlessly interesting to people for some absurd reason, it took me a long time to realise how much of a prick he really was, is. Every time I’m near him this horrible, jealous, part of me comes out. I hate it. I hate him and yet he still has this effect over me.” Jean brought a hand to her breast as her chest tightened, her bangles jingling on her wrist.

“I don’t love him. I never loved him as much as I love you. He had this fakeness, this fucking perfectness that drew me to him. It still does, I admit that, even if it shouldn’t and I can’t take back what I did, Jakob but I don’t just like you I love you, I really love you.”

“Jea-“

“I know you’ll say I don’t, or I’m not ready and in some way I’m probably not but I need this to work. I need us to work. I’ve never felt this way about a person. It’s not just the sex. It’s you.” Jean said, almost collapsing where she stood, her hand grasping the loose blue fabric of her jumpsuit.

“Jean, sit down, please.” Jean looked at Jakob and warily took a seat beside him, her hands balled in her lap. “I hear what you’re saying but I need to be here for my girls, and you need to be there for Otis. When we were together we were playing games, all the time and I can’t have that Jean.” Jean screwed her face up, feeling the tears almost begin to fall. “But.” Her heart almost stopped, a glimmer of hope, of possibility. “If we agree on what we’re comfortable with, for me and for you, I think we can make this work.” Jakob said, placing a hand on top of Jean’s bunched fists. Jean smiled, she smiled so widely that her gums showed. 

“Oh, Jakob, thank you.” She said, wiping her face from the tears that hadn’t fallen and yet tears did begin to fall, tears of desperate happiness streamed down her face until she buried her head in Jakob’s chest, his large hands brushing the curve of her back. She inhaled the smell of him, his lovely comforting smell that she had missed so badly.

“We just have to talk to each other, Jean.” He said wrapping his arms around her, bear hugging the tiny woman that clung to him. “No more arguments about pan shelves?” Jean giggled through the tears.

“I’ll try. For us.” She said, his bulk muffling her words. He nodded and held her until she’d exhausted herself from crying. They lay on the sofa in the empty house, hands on each other in a most personal way.


	2. The Man With A Child In His Eyes

Jean undressed in the bathroom, the already running taps pelting the tiles with hot water as they filled the bath. She dropped the yellow embroidered robe to the floor, revealing her changing body. She looked down at herself, at the soft curve of her stomach. Jakob had joked about her needing to drink more of his “detox” smoothies that she detested. She still hadn’t told him. She spread a hand over her naked stomach, the child held inside of her. Jakob’s child. She turned to the floor length mirror, fogged with steam and condensation. She felt old. She hadn’t believed it when the GP had told her she was pregnant. She was almost 43. She looked at her body, the way her boobs lay, not as independently suspended as the years past and they were… sensitive. Strangely sensitive. She knew it was because she was pregnant but anytime Jakob had attempted to touch her there she’d flinched away and told him to stop. She craned around to look at the small patterns of cellulite collected on the back of her legs. She felt the flesh of her ass, not nearly as pert as it had once been. She didn’t feel like her. Where had the time gone? For so long she’d wanted another child but knew it was going to be impossible and yet, here she was carrying her impossible child, unbeknownst to anybody else. She sighed, looking down at herself, a gentle wrinkle gathering between her eyebrows. She wrapped her bare arms around her chest. Hugging herself to hold her feelings together. She dropped her arms and slowly got into the bath. She had to be careful, gentle. The risks of having a child at this age were numerous and the likelihood that she would have a miscarriage even higher. She knew the risks, the potential for heartbreak. She wanted this though. She forgot the responsibility of carrying a child inside of her, an almost living, breathing person. It felt nice to have something she could care for. She submerged each limb in the hot water, lying back in the bath, the choppy ends of her hair trailing in the water. After a while she began to wash herself, lathering her skin with soap, she was delicate with her stomach, slowly dragging her softly lathered hands over it, leaving trails of white bubbles all over her. She worried. But she was not allowed to worry. She needed to relax. For her baby. She had to.

She sat quietly on the bed, wondering, as she pulled her yellow robe tight around her. Her white camisole was getting a little too tight to wear, soon she would need to buy new clothes to accommodate this child. She sighed, looking at her short fingernails and the perfect half moon shapes of her cuticles. She remembered cutting Otis’s nails when he was small, wriggly and funny and giggly. She was always alone then, uncaring at that time about Remi cheating on her, Otis was all she had on her mind. She wondered whether her child would be a boy or a girl. A girl, she hoped. Hope. Hope was all she could hold onto. Tonight she would tell Jakob. He deserved to know.

Jean set two plates of salmon paired with lentils down on the table. Otis had gone to stay at Eric’s house at Jean’s request. She’d told him it was important and her and Jakob needed some space. He’d huffed, saying that Eric would rather go out with Adam but ultimately agreed. Jean poured a glass of wine for Jakob and filled a glass with water for herself. She was on tenterhooks waiting for the knock on the door. For Jakob to arrive. She held her breath, adjusting her hair in the mirror, running her hands down the orange dress she’d lately been favouring. She wasn’t wearing the chunky brown belt she normally wore with the dress as she thought it may be a little too small and potentially uncomfortable. She adjusted the laid out cutlery, making sure each fork lay perfectly straight and in line with each knife. She glanced at her watch. 7:02 pm. Jakob was meant to be here two minutes ago. She walked to the porch, peering out of the front door’s peephole up the path to see if Jakob was approaching. No luck. She waited another few minutes and sighed, he was normally punctual. She went back through to the kitchen and sat down, checking her phone for any missed texts.

Half an hour had passed and Jean had given in and eaten her meal, placing Jakob’s in the fridge. At this point she doubted he would appear at all. She worried that something had happened to him. Again she checked her phone, nothing but a missed call from a telemarketer. She played Candy Crush for a little while, sipping the end of her water when she finally heard a knock on the door. She quickly got up from her chair, walking at speed through the house, she pulled the door open and there Jakob stood, his hair flopping against his forehead.

“Where have you been! You were meant to be here at 7pm and by now…” She checked her watch, “it’s almost 8:30.” She sighed.

“I’m so sorry, Jean, my tire popped on the motorway and my phone ran out of battery so I couldn’t tell you.” Jakob said and Jean grabbed him into a hug.

“It’s okay. I made dinner but I already ate mine and put yours in the fridge.”

They sat down, Jakob hurriedly eating his dinner, he’d been starving, stuck in the middle of the motorway waiting for the AA to arrive. He drank his now warm glass of wine.

“Jean do you not want a glass?” He asked gesturing to the bottle. She tensed, now was the time to come clean.

“No, actually I need to tell you something.” Jean said, her thoughts becoming jittery.

“Are you sure you don’t want any wine first?” Jakob said again, taking a swig. Jean nodded.

“Yes, I’m sure.” She said. “Jakob…” She began, arranging her thoughts into some comprehensible order. “After we separated, I had noticed some symptoms and so I went to the doctor.” At this Jakob stopped eating, noisily placing his knife and fork on his mostly empty plate. The worst thoughts began to cloud his mind, memories of his ill wife in her last days. As he said, he couldn’t do that again.

“What was wrong?” He asked, looking at Jean, his eyes the most beautiful blue Jean had ever seen.

“I had noticed a tightness in my chest, irritability, among other things. I expected I was in perimenopause.” Jean said slowly, smoothing the pleats of her dress with her hands.

“And were you?” Jakob asked, more concerned and delicate than Jean had thought him to be, there was a tenderness in his expression, of deep introspection and concern.

“I was, yes, well am but also…” She swallowed, taking a deep breath, the necklace she wore suddenly heavy on her chest. “I was also…”

“Jean? Please, tell me.” Jakob said holding out a hand for Jean to take, his short jagged nails digging into her perfect, soft skin.

“I’m pregnant.” She looked up at him, stifling the tears she had been letting fall far too readily.

“I had a… what do you call it…” Jakob thought for a moment.

“A vasectomy?” Jean finished for him.

“Yes, a vasectomy. How is it possible?”

“That’s what I said when she told me.” Jean said, calculating her words, trying to conserve only the facts.

“Are you sure?” Jean nodded.

“At my age... I couldn’t believe it and I still can’t. The likelihood of carrying this child to full term is a 50/50 situation.” Jean sterilised the words, broke them away from her own situation. “That is if I want to keep it.”

“And do you… Want to keep it?”

“It’s my last chance of naturally having a child Jakob. I do. I don’t want you to have this responsibility though, if you don’t want it, you already have your two girls and I have Otis. I know they’re almost grown up but we’re still there to care for them but I want a baby. I want someone to provide for.”

“Oh, Jean…” Jakob placed both of his hands in hers. “Our child.” He said, barely loud enough to be audible. He kissed her knuckles. Jean smiled, forlorn, nostalgic.

“You want to keep it?” She asked, the hope in her voice that drove her.

“I do. Of course I do, Jean.” She got up and sat down on his lap, his arms wrapped around her, holding her with just one hand, the other splayed over her growing stomach. Jean’s chin rested on Jakob’s head, the smell of his plasticy hair gel a warm familiarity. She kissed his forehead and he kissed the collarbone that lay above her heart.

“I love you, Jean.” No one had said those words to her in such a long time. She felt at home, in the arms of her lover, a father, a creator.


End file.
